The Beginnings of Basketball
by MirageCharon
Summary: Collection of stories on how each player in Kuroko no Basuke first came into contact with basketball, some based on Character Bible. Chapter 6: Murasakibara Atsushi. He said that he had no passion for basketball, and yet he continued playing to this day. Why?
1. Momoi Satsuki and Aomine Daiki

Disclaimer: Kuroko no Basuke belongs to Fujimaki Tadatoshi.

Summary: Momoi Satsuki is known for being a specialist in data gathering for basketball, with passion greater than even the players. She is reputed to possess unrivaled ability at predicting the growth of players. But rarely did anyone remember that her first encounter with basketball was not filled with happiness. And neither was the journey to where she is now, a smooth one. Aomine could most certainly vouch for it. After all, he suffered the most at her hands.

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**The Beginnings of Basketball - Momoi Satsuki (and Aomine Daiki)**

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It was during the second year of middle school, when the Generation of Miracles had just been established. Basketball training has been tougher than ever, in order not to let the reputation of being the strongest falter. Not that anyone believed for a moment that the Generation of Miracles could be defeated, not after the last tournament where every other school was crushed by a point difference of more than a hundred.

Momoi Satsuki was proud to be the manager of this basketball team. It wasn't wrong to say that the pink haired manager had been in love with the sport from since young. Her ability at spotting the strengths and weaknesses of players was not simply 'talent', but passion. And it would have taken years to get to where she was, with latent ability or not, so she could only have started young. There were many speculations about the origin of her love, most involving her childhood friend Aomine Daiki. And it was partly true. Her affinity with basketball had begun ever since she was dragged into it by her childhood friend.

At four years of age, the two children had gotten separated from their parents during the New Year's festival, all because 'Dai-chan' wanted to chase after his balloon which slipped from his small hands. As it rose higher and higher, Aomine had climbed up a tree to catch it, and when he looked up again, a basketball had appeared in place of his balloon. His eyes followed the ball as it stopped in the air for a moment, and then dropped back – no, a pair of hands reach out as if to gently collected it. The skillful hands then proceeded to manipulate it as if it defiled all rules, bouncing the ball between legs and shadows, never losing it. Despite Momoi's whining from below for him to get back down now, Aomine could not stop watching with eager eyes, soaking the sight in like water on dried soil.

For him, it was probably love at first sight. The free flowing, ever changing style of street basketball probably represented the freedom a child yearned, and for Aomine who was facing a difficult time, love came easily.

For Momoi though, it started off as a bad premonition. The stupid grin on 'Dai-chan''s face when he stopped on the tree always meant that a scolding was on its way, and the fact that he left her on the ground where it was dark by herself was unforgivable! Didn't he know that wolves would come out and get her? She started yelling louder, and it wasn't long before it become wailing instead.

Of course, Aomine came back down when he heard her crying. Nothing good ever happened if she cried, and he really, really, wanted to tell her what he just saw. It was so amazing!

Momoi calmed down when he dropped back next to her, and then she was hitting him for leaving her alone in the dark. Aomine was still too excited to be dampened by that, and he quickly related all he saw to Momoi, waving his hands wildly and enthusiastically. But Momoi was cold, tired, and scared. All the talk about the mystery ball and how it flew around people increased her dislike of whatever it was Aomine was so taken by, and the fact that the two of them were still lost was not helping. For the next few days, actually declined going out to play with Aomine, especially when he said saw the ball again and wanted to show her.

But he was her best friend, and best friends should forgive each other often, right? Her mama did tell her that, and besides, 'Dai-chan' would be lonely without her. He was such a stupid boy, always getting into trouble. If she did not look after him, he might really get into something serious, like fighting with a big dog instead of a frog! And, and, the big meanie two doors away would tear him into pieces!

With that thought in mind, Momoi ended up going with Aomine to the nearby basketball court. And really, she could not resist the silly smile on his face as he mimicked the movements of the players with a plastic ball he picked up somewhere. So she sat with him day after day, watching him handle the ball clumsily, flustering, stably, firmly, until he held it confidently, with fingers covered in blisters.

The awkward and aloof 'Dai-chan' had finally found something he loved, and Momoi was happy for him. She decided that this basketball might not be that bad a thing as she had previously thought, if it could always make him smile.

Momoi did not meet with Aomine the next day, since she had unfortunately, caught a cold while she was out. And the next day, she was horrified to see him covered in bruises and band-aids. It turned out that he was practicing how to throw the ball in the hoop when there was nobody around, when some older children came by to play. They wanted him to give the place to them, and Aomine did not want to. He boldly told them he wanted to play as well.

So they challenged him to a match, and if he won, they would play with him. Obviously, an eight year old kid would win over a five year old any day. And because of the size difference, the younger boy was pushed around a lot and he fell often. Despite that, Aomine did not give in easily.

When Momoi heard the tale, she was mad. Mad at 'Dai-chan' for being so rash, mad at the older boys for bullying him. But mostly, she was mad at herself for not being there when they pushed him around. So she went with him that day. And that was the day it all changed.

The two children went to the basketball court as Aomine wanted to re-enact the whole match to her. It was his first match, and even though he lost, he was really happy about it. The court was empty, and once again the same group of eight year olds came by.

The fearless Aomine went on again to play another match, and this time, Momoi saw it all. Not only were the boys looking down on him and treating him as if he was no better than a newbie, they were purposely playing rough. Momoi had heard all about this basketball from her older cousins ever since she found out that 'Dai-chan' liked it, and they always told her that pushing other players were wrong. But still, when she pointed it out to the older children, they had threatened to tear her rabbit doll apart.

Apparently, she must have spent way too much time with 'Dai-chan', for she fearlessly told them off despite their threat. The older children had then taken her doll and stomped on it in retaliation, and she was crying so hard that Aomine went to rescue it, taking some kicks in the attempt.

Fuming mad, Momoi spoke to a beaten up Aomine as they walked home together.

"Dai-chan! Let's make a team next time! We'll beat them fair and square!"

"With you?" Aomine chuckled painfully. "You can't even bounce a ball and get it back!"

"What! So what if I can't play!" Momoi exclaimed embarrassedly. "I'll just become your trainer, and make sure you train hard so you can beat them and everyone else!"

"Do what you want." _As long as you don't cry again…_

Her passion for training Aomine in basketball had been ignited, and Momoi would do all she could from now on so 'Dai-chan' would never have to suffer such humiliating losses again. The next day, however, it was Aomine who was close to tears. Momoi ordered him try mimicking some of the movements she saw on TV for basketball, and Aomine almost dislocated his shoulder when he failed. It looked like Satsuki still have a long way to go…

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A/N: Satsuki willingly offered up this story when I asked her about her past. Hearing about Aomine was a bonus. I suspect it might have been a ploy to embarrass Aomine, since he forgot about her and made her wait _again_.


	2. Midorima Shintarou Part 1

Disclaimer: Kuroko no Basuke belongs to Fujimaki Tadatoshi.

Summary: We all know that Midorima Shintarou took up basketball as a break from studying, but is that really all? Given his character, let's just say, he certainly will not volunteer this information at all costs. So why not ask the one who start it all?

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**The Beginnings of Basketball - Midorima Shintarou (Part 1)**

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He was a young boy from the family next door. The only child, so to speak. It came as no surprise when my mother asked me to look after him, because I was the youngest and closest in age to him. But an age difference of three years was a lot when you were a child, and I was most unwilling to play with a younger boy. Of course I declined.

But I still had to greet the family anyway. The first impression I had of him was that of a nerdy kid. A young boy of five years, with a head of green hair and thick framed spectacles to boot. He was also short and scrawny, and he even held a book in his hands. I had no idea where he got his green hair from, because both his parents had brown hair.

And he was polite to a tee. When I finally invited him to play at the insistent nagging of my mother, all I got was such a polite reply.

"I have no time for such frivolities, nee-san."

I wanted to hit him.

Of course I refrained, because doing so would get me punished. Not to mention, hitting house guests, whether this was their first time here or not, was not polite manners. But his attitude was infuriating. Fine, if he said that, I would not invite him again. He could go spend his time doing things he deemed proper.

I held a small grudge. Hey, I was nine! And it wasn't cool to be saddled with a younger boy at this age.

That was, until I really saw him.

He was always reading alone under the tree between our houses during weekends. When I looked out of my window, he would be sitting quietly, his green hair blending into the foliage of the garden. A quiet kid, who would no doubt, be one of those famous nerds in school next time.

Sometimes, when I passed by the playground near my house, he would be sitting alone in the shade, looking like he yearned to play with the others, and yet never going forward to join them. I never made an effort to intervene, because I remembered my own trials with the playground friendships. If he had not gained the courage himself, all my intervention would do was make him look weak and paint a target sign on his head for the bullies.

Besides, he could deal with it. He did not have time for frivolities, remember?

Having a new neighbor right next to us meant that there new things for us to adjust to. First, there was a new sound wafting around the house – the grand piano. At first, it was irritating. Our neighborhood was a quiet one, and with me being the youngest of all the children, there was virtually no noise from children within the distance of five houses. I had gotten used to the silence, the sounds of wind blowing into my room, and then suddenly there was this loud jarring noise in the form of piano notes. But I slowly got to enjoy it, because someone could play it rather well, and I would drift to my afternoon naps in the soothing tones.

Secondly, we almost always had a new houseguest, in the form of Midorima Shintarou. My mother told me about it, the first time he slept over. He was already sleeping soundly since his father carried him over, and was placed on the spare bed in our house. And I was still wondering what had happened. It turned out that his parents were both called in for an emergency surgery at the hospital, and they were not sure when they would be back. It could be in an hour or two, or it could last until next day's afternoon. Their house was empty saved for the boy, and they felt rather insecure leaving him alone at night, so they brought him over just in case. He seemed pretty used to this arrangement, and I sometimes wondered what he did if some scary monsters come out under his bed.

Oh wait, he was too mature to be tricked by that. Forget it.

Thirdly, I heard the full story when the Watanabe-san, our other neighbor, came over for tea. I just happened to pass by the kitchen that afternoon, and I heard. No, I wasn't eavesdropping. Who would want to eavesdrop on middle-aged housewives' gossip anyway?

It seemed that the Midorima family was a family of doctors, and they moved around a lot because they were always needed elsewhere. The child, Shintarou, was too mature for his age and often had problems integrating with the other children. He seemed to invest all his time in reading, a chore most other children disliked. Even though his parents knew it, they could not do anything for him since they were often away. Thus, my mother implored me to take care of him.

"The two of you are actually quite alike, don't you think? Help him, so he won't have to suffer the same trials you did when growing up." That was what my mother said to me when I first declined making friends with him. Damn, my mother really knew how to play me.

I sat down on the porch, and thought for a while. Having watched him for some time now, I guessed that his prickly, bordering-on-rude attitude was a defense against the other children. I imagined that he had been teased often when playing with the rest. After all, having green hair and wearing spectacles at this age was something uncommon, and anything uncommon was to be out casted. I should know, since I was often being bullied for having lilac hair.

It did not help that his family kept moving around, either. It must be hard making friends, and so much less painful to keep to yourself.

Alright, that was it. I would help him out, just this once. Even if he did not want to, I would make him. Because being alone was that much more painful.

I know.

_You better be ready, Shin-chan. _

On the morning of the next day, Midorima Shintarou was stopped on his way to the kitchen, by an invitation to play basketball with his neighbor's daughter.

"I must politely decline, nee-san. I –" A young Midorima Shintarou pushed his spectacles higher on his nose.

"-have no time for such frivolities." Ayume cut him off with a sneer. "I know. But who said anything about you? I need a partner to play one-on-one with, and I don't care what you want or need. Now shut up and follow me."

The poor boy had no choice but to follow, since he would be staying at her house for the next few days. His parents had left him here again while they attended to some emergency, so he would be at her mercy.

_Oh dear_, Ayume's mother thought. _That was not what I had hoped. _

It seemed that her baby daughter would use a different approach to help Shin-chan open up his heart. She had hoped that Ayume would be to Shintarou, like Mika was a gentle sister to her, but perhaps it was too much to hope for. Her daughter was quite stubborn in her own way, after all.

Oh well, as long as it worked…

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A/N: Midorima was rather reluctant to voice his story, and hence I had to track his past records and speak to everyone in order to understand him. It turns out that Ayume was rather happy to share her views on his childhood. Let's see if he will be more willing to give his side of the story now, if only to retain some of his dignity.


	3. Midorima Shintarou Part 2

Disclaimer: Kuroko no Basuke belongs to Fujimaki Tadatoshi.

Summary: Midorima Shintarou, the genius shooting guard of the Generation of Miracles, was probably the only somewhat normal person in the team. He functioned well as a normal student outside of basketball, if you ignore his obsession with horoscopes and luck. But there are things he would not mention to people, such as the exact circumstances of his initiation into basketball. Having one Akashi and one Takao know about it is bad enough.

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**The Beginnings of Basketball - Midorima Shintarou (Part 2)**

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Midorima Shintarou always thought that he was a very normal child, who worked hard fulfilling the wishes of his parents. He was showered with love when he did what his parents wanted. He learned piano at the age of four, because that was what his mother did in her free time. He took pride in being good at piano, and he also read a lot. After all, his father read every chance he had, and Shintarou simply wanted to be like him.

When he started elementary school, he was a meticulous student who did well in classes. All was for the sake of following his parent's footsteps to become a doctor. His family moved around a few times, and he was told that it was because the other hospitals needed them. He understood that they did great work out there, because everyone said so. Hence, even though they were not with him every day, it was cool. He had his studies to excel in, books to read, and piano to make music with.

He had learned long ago, that others of his age did not take kindly to new people, especially people with spectacles and better knowledge than them. The fact that both his parents had brown hair and his was green did not help, and he was often called unsavory names. When he told his parents about it, his mother smiled and explained genetics to him in simple terms. But all he remembered was that his green hair was due to luck, and he should never be ashamed of it.

Shintarou was not a violent kid. While others would have retaliated with punches and kicks, he retaliated verbally. It was probably due to his upbringing, since his parents never raised a hand to anyone, and had often taught him the same. His parents pointed out to him that there was no reason to quarrel with the common children, who did not know any better. And so, he would rather read alone than join them in games. Reading was useful to his studies, and playing meant a waste of time. At least, that was what he thought.

Strangely enough, his eyes would always track the progress of the other children, despite him having made the choice of not joining them. It made him uncomfortable, and so his replies were always curt and to the point. This made the other children avoid him, and sometimes, even the adults gave him weird looks. But all he said was the truth was it not?

It took an elder sister from next door to show him what it was to not be alone, to look past his hastily built shield, see him for who he really was, and pull him forward into life.

Basketball was a waste of time, Shintarou thought. All that running around just to throw a ball into a hoop, and then cheer as if they had topped the school. It was, Shintarou decided on the first day he played, ungraceful and useless, not to mention dangerous. His piano teacher had warned him not to injure his fingers, and yet here he was, playing such a rough sport.

When he mentioned (no, he was too dignified and too mature to complain) to his parents about Ayu-nee from next door forcing him to play basketball, they had laughed and told him it was for his recreation. And if he was worried, he could tape his fingers to prevent injuries. It would be good practice for the future too, if he still wanted to become a doctor.

Recreation was a term he knew. It meant doing something else that he enjoyed, in his free time. His parents took up reading and piano for their recreation too. It was something required in life. He had thought that piano was his recreation, but apparently his parents informed him that he ought to have one artistic recreation and one physical recreation, in order not to grow fat. When he asked them what they did for physical recreation, they had shared a secretive smile and told him that he was enough for their physical recreation. It left him confused, but as long as they did fulfill the recreation requirements as they said, he supposed he would have to do the same.

Ayu-nee had told him almost the same thing as well, that if he sat around all day and read or play piano, he would get fat really soon and no one will even want to look at him, much less talk to him. He was not fat, was he? Silently, he resolved to take basketball more seriously, as well as improve his basic stamina. He could not be fat, or she would never stop teasing him about it. He was finding it hard to keep up with her already. (Could he really be fat? Shintarou decided to eat one less spoonful of dinner that night.)

Already, she was spending less time with him now that she started middle school. He wanted to make the most of the time spent together, and hence he would train by himself and surprise her with his progress. The only thing he found interesting in basketball was how to calculate the angle and power needed to ensure that the ball landed in the hoop, since scoring was the main point of the game. Everything else was secondary, and therefore shooting was the only thing that he needed to excel at. And so, that was what he would do when she was not around. It would make their game more interesting if he could even out the advantage she had over him, be it experience, strategies, or even height.

He had not known why, but he really liked spending time with her. It was more fun than reading alone, or learning new piano pieces. Even though she would always scold him and make him run errands or do more basic training, he still valued the time spent together with her.

Not to mention that the first time he scored a goal in school, his classmates had looked on in wonder and asked him for advice on how to do it like him. He found them childish, and said so. But even then, unlike the other times, they kept on coming back. Because he was good at it, and they wanted to learn from the best.

So he resolved to be the best.

On some days, his shots would miss often. He would keep shooting until he reached his own personal target of a hundred goals a day. And it became two, three and five hundred over the years, until his shooting was near perfection.

When he was ten, he lost five matches in a row because his shooting was bad. Ayu-nee had consoled him by saying that his horoscope sign was bad for those days, and that next time she would bring him the lucky items so he would not miss. (_That was also around the time when Ayume had become engrossed in horoscope reading, what with teenage girls and love life consultation in horoscopes,_ her mother thought with a shake of her head.)

Of course, since her words had never been wrong thus far, Shintarou took it to heart. And when he started carrying around the lucky items dictated by the horoscope, his shooting never missed. It also meant that his luck was better for everything. Sometimes people would give him weird looks when they saw him bringing a pot of cactus or a silver fork everywhere, but he would not care. Luck was important, when he already did all he could.

As the years passed, he grew taller and became better at basketball. There came a point in his life, when she was embarrassed to be seen with him in public, since he was often mistaken to be her boyfriend and she had to hastily decline so. It hurt him a little. Not to mention that when his school mates found out about her being his basketball teacher, they were always bothering her. It made their time together tainted by the presence of others, and he did not like it.

Since he lived far, it was not an issue to keep her away from his meddlesome classmates once he enrolled in middle school. He would not mention to anyone about her, simply that he took up basketball for recreation. He found people who he could tolerate, and who tolerated him in return. He found comrades, and people who could match his wits and talents.

And of course, he found a captain who dug up his secret, smiled amicably and then proposed ways to improve his training, such as making him remove his finger tapings during actual matches. It was a little unnerving, but since Akashi had made no further mention about it from that day on, he decided it might just be better to follow his words. After all, Akashi was never wrong in those few short months that they spent together too.

Shintarou eventually surpassed Ayume in basketball.

By the time Ayume left Japan on a scholarship to attend university, Shintarou had already found something worthwhile for him to hold in life. Something, that could make him happy whether he realized it or not.

"Shin-chan will be fine by himself now," was her last words before she left.

Midorima would learn to curse the day he let Takao come along with him, as Takao picked up on that embarrassing nickname and would not stop using it from then on.

Not that it mattered. It would just be another reason for him to treat Takao as his errand boy.

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A/N: Well, I tried. He wasn't happy, and he was still rather reluctant. I managed to piece together his story from the short and evasive answers that he gave, and there you have it. I hope this clears things up. Now... let's see if someone else from the Generation of Miracles will give his story.


	4. Kiyoshi Teppei

Disclaimer: Kuroko no Basuke belongs to Fujimaki Tadatoshi.

Summary: Kiyoshi Teppei is a happy-go-lucky person, who is able to maintain his will despite all challenges he failed to overcome. Hence the nickname 'Iron Heart' was given to him. But how did such a person come into contact with basketball?

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**The Beginnings of Basketball: Kiyoshi Teppei**

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"Someone!"

A desperate plea came from across the street.

"Please stop the ball!"

A young Kiyoshi Teppei looked up from the shonen manga in his hand, and turned towards the voice. He noticed a little boy running frantically on the other side of the street, waving his hands madly. When he saw that Kiyoshi had looked right at him, the little boy gestured madly at somewhere in front of Kiyoshi. Kiyoshi turned and saw the orange coloured ball heading straight at him.

…no, it did not hit him in the face like any shonen manga would depict. What a disappointment.

The ball rolled on the floor, steadily gaining speed as it headed down the slope towards him. Kiyoshi simply stepped aside and bended down to scoop it up with his hand when it rolled by. It turned out to be a weather beaten basketball, with an almost smooth surface and faded lines.

Having caught the stray ball, Kiyoshi idly wondered if he should cross the street and return it, or simply throw it over.

Alright, he would just throw it over.

After all, he wanted to get back to his manga, and really, he needed to get home quickly – he was already late since he stopped by the bookstore to get the book. He would be listening to his grandmother's lecture when he reached home, for sure. Not for wasting money on manga, no, his grandparents had never lectured him on that. But they would be certain to nag at him for returning home late without telling them.

The traffic was slow, and there were not many cars zooming by. Kiyoshi waited until he was sure that there were no vehicles on the road before lifting the ball in his hand and flinging it over. After all, he did not want to accidentally hit any incoming car if he missed. It was a pain being a growing boy, when everything seemed too big and too small. He wondered briefly if he would ever get used to his body, or his own growing strength.

Oops, it seemed he used a little too much strength.

The ball sailed through the air much higher than expected, and it would have flew over the head of the little boy had he not jumped and caught it. Kiyoshi was a little surprised. Children were not usually that quick to react, as the all the bruises he got when younger could attest to. Oh well, the little boy was chasing after the ball. Perhaps he was used to catching it, Kiyoshi shrugged inwardly.

With that good deed of the day done and forgotten, Kiyoshi went back to reading his shonen manga. He was just about the turn the corner after a dozen or so steps when someone stepped into his path. It was a small pair of feet, so instead of looking up, Kiyoshi simply lowered the book in his left hand.

The little boy standing in front of him was looking up at him with hero-worshipped eyes. Okay, so he might have read a little too much manga to be using that term, but Kiyoshi was sure that this boy had something akin to admiration in his eyes, which was for some reason directed at him. And he was holding onto an orange ball, which was strangely familiar – oh right, that was the basketball he caught and returned earlier.

Maybe it was time to get another hobby. The manga was too addictive and he often found himself unable to return to reality quickly when he read it. His parents were commenting that he seemed more forgetful as well. Was he really?

Oh right, back to the matter at hand. Even if he caught the ball and returned it to him, there was no reason for that hero-worshipped expression on the little boy's face. Surely it was not such a big deal? Kiyoshi looked left and right uncomfortably, wondering if the little boy was looking at anyone else.

"Nii-san," the little boy greeted with a tug on Kiyoshi's sleeves. Alright, so he was looking at him. Kiyoshi was just about to succeed in convincing himself that the boy was looking at someone else – even if the only other person around was a shopkeeper out dusting his wares – when he felt the tug.

"Thank you for catching my ball for me."

Kiyoshi lifted a hand to scratch the back of his head before grinning sheepishly. "Ahh…It's nothing. Be careful next time, okay?"

"Do you mind doing that again?"

"Huh? Isn't the ball already with you?"

"No, I mean, hold the ball again."

With that, Kiyoshi found the basketball being held out in front of him. Perplexed but still willing to humor a little kid, he reached out with his palm and lifted the ball from the boy's hands. The moment he did that, it seemed as though the little boy's eyes would become diamonds if they sparkled any more. Growing even more uncomfortable being targeted by those eyes, Kiyoshi asked bewilderedly.

"You mean like this? Why?"

"Wow, nii-san, you have really big hands!" The little boy looked on with amazement. "I can never hold the ball like that. Can you teach me?"

Kiyoshi frowned as he looked at the ball in his hand. He had simply picked it up as he would any other object. Turning his hand in one round, Kiyoshi decided that there was nothing special about the way he held it. The ball was large for the boy's hands, so maybe that was why.

"I think you just need to grow a little more, and you should be able to do it." Kiyoshi smiled gently and ruffled the hair on the little boy's head after handing him back the ball.

"No, nii-san," the little boy protested. "My father and elder brother can't do it too. And they are OLDER."

"Well, I'm sure if you tried harder, you can do it too."

"Okay…" The little boy looked down casted. But then, he suddenly brightened. "So nii-san, do you play basketball too? Can I go watch you sometimes?"

"Sorry, I never played basketball before." Kiyoshi apologized with a small smile as he watched the light dimmed from the boy's eyes.

"What a waste… Coach always said that being able to hold the ball in one hand is the greatest talent a basketball player can have, besides being tall." The little boy babbled on. "I'm not tall, and I only have such small hands so I can never do it…"

"It's okay," Kiyoshi said kindly. "I'm sure you have other talents to develop."

"…okay… I'll go back to training now." The little boy reluctantly agreed and nodded his goodbyes before crossing the street. Kiyoshi watched him as he sprinted across during a brief lapse in traffic, simply because he wanted to make sure the boy made it across safely.

The moment he landed on the other side, the little boy turned and shouted at him. "Nii-san! If you ever play basketball, I'm sure you'll be great! I will see you in matches someday!"

Kiyoshi waved back, and he looked down at his forgotten manga. Basketball huh. It might be fun. Who knows, he might even be able to make a great team and enjoy school life like so many other sports manga described. Perhaps it was about time for him to start living his own life, as his grandfather often nagged. Reading about it was only half the pleasure, after all.

Shutting his book, Kiyoshi started walking back home again. Except that this time, all he thought of was whether his school had a basketball team, and if they would let him join.

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A/N: Kiyoshi suddenly decided to make a guest appearance, and I can't seem to stop him. He can be rather stubborn and convincing when he wants something, don't you think so? He actually showed me his memories of it, and I just couldn't resist writing it down. I don't think I have it all down in words perfectly - a shame, because it was so realistic. Oh well, I hope you'll enjoy it regardless. Now, to chase after the other Generation of Miracles...


	5. Kuroko Tetsuya

Disclaimer: Kuroko no Basuke belongs to Fujimaki Tadatoshi.

Summary: Kuroko Tetsuya started basketball because he thought it was interesting after watching it on TV. But to an amateur, basketball matches are difficult to comprehend especially if it's in motion. Why then, did it captivate him so much, and what pushed him to be so passionate about basketball even until now?

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**The Beginnings of Basketball: Kuroko Tetsuya  
**

* * *

Kuroko was what you would call an overlooked child. He was often overlooked – average grades, quiet, obedient. The kind of child you would praise absentmindedly as you shouted at the rowdy ones. He had decent family upbringing, was polite and was a gentleman.

Kuroko was an only child. He was sent to a foster home when young, since both his parents were working hard and were often not at home. He had no grandparents, as far as he knew, so there was simply no one at home for him. So, a foster home it was.

Over there, it was always chaos. There were children of all ages since the parents simply loved having a large family, and someone would always need something at the same time as the others. Orders were given, pleas were wailed, demands shouted. Due to all the chaos in the family, he became reserved and quiet, and would rather not stand in the spot light – because being found always meant having more chores to do.

'Tetsu go tend to the plates'

'Tet-chan play with me!'

'Tetsuya, clean up the living room please?'

Oh sure, everyone had their fair share to cover and they always have household chores' shifts. But there was an endless stream of things to do and everyone would always make him do it if they see him around, simply because they had something more pressing to attend to.

Older 'brother': I am working on my thesis which is due at five! I have no time for this!

Elder 'sister': Huh? You're asking me to do it? I have to take care of baby Mika! Get someone else!

Younger 'brother': Wahhh stupid Goro stole my Ultraman! Give it back!

The cry echoed amidst the chaos while a little girl came up to him holding a cup of orange juice spilled half on her dress, half on the ground since someone else bumped into her.

Younger 'sister': Tet-chaaaaaaan…Help me! Please?

Kuroko was too rational to hold a grudge against the others for always dumping more errands on him, and he was too kind to refuse the chores when it was obvious that they had something more urgent. Still, you couldn't blame him for not wanting extra chores, could you? Kuroko sighed in a dark corner, where peace finally reigned for a total of forty minutes before someone bumped into him and asked him for something else again.

In order to survive this chaos with his mind and childhood relatively intact, Kuroko learned how not be seen. Well, you could say that he was simply trying too hard to be invisible, only to realize once he ingrained it in his bones that it was a double-edge sword.

Take for example, his home. Being an only child of an author and an accountant, he was often forgotten when his parents had work to do. Because he did not want to draw attention to himself in the foster home, he ended up inevitably cleaning up after himself even at home – it became a habit conditioned by self-preservation at the foster family. And sometimes, his parents would even forget about him for an hour or two after work, since the house was so quiet and clean, just like their honeymoon period.

Not that they starved him. After the first two times when he appeared for dinner and his mother had just made enough for two, both his parents had eyed each other and then simultaneously decided it was safer to always keep ready-made food at home if they actually forgot about preparing his meals. Tetsuya was a smart boy, they figured, he would go get food by himself if they were too busy and forgot about his meals.

…not that it really mattered, Kuroko thought as he eyed the cupboards newly stocked with all variations of snacks and cookies.

He was too used to this by that time, since his parents had often skipped meals and he had to use his measly cooking skills to make simple sandwiches for all of them. Each of his parents always ate the sandwiches without wondering where the food came from. And when they thought about it afterwards, they always assumed the other made it for them.

Kuroko shrugged. As long as he did not poison them, he was fine with them not acknowledging it. They blamed themselves so often, and yet still forgot about him when they were busy. Sometimes, it was just too painful to see the guilt in their eyes. Kuroko wanted love from his parents, not guilt.

This resulting trait from the foster home also invaded his school life. Kuroko was not a smart kid, not those genius children who came in first in everything. In fact, he had average grades, some better and some just passing. His ranking was often lost amongst the sea of other children, and teachers rarely remembered him – they had the extremely good students to praise, and the failing ones to lecture and help. Kuroko was neither, and hence he stayed out of their radar.

His classmates too, often forgot about him. It had the added benefit that his chores were lessened, because the class always divide by the number they could see, and they almost always failed to count him.

He would also surprise his classmates (and sometimes his teacher) whenever he spoke up. It was a little addictive to do that, Kuroko admit. But sometimes, especially when people are talking about secrets, speaking up and bringing attention to himself would only cause more harm than fun, because they would not take too kindly to him 'eavesdropping'.

Not that they cared that he was already there in the first place. He was not to be trusted, was what they had thought of him. Best to stay away.

And this… lack of presence trait made him feel a little empty when no one cared about him. When he fell and scraped his hands, no one knew. When he was hit by the stray ball and received a giant bump on his head, no one even noticed. When he managed to buy his favorite lunch, no one saw him smile. When he finally got an A for a assignment, no one remembered to cheer.

It was just a little…lonely.

When Kuroko stayed at home on the weekends, he would often watch the television by himself in the afternoons. His mother would be out drying the laundry or sleeping in, and his father would often go out to 'get inspiration' for his new book.

And then there was this show. Kuroko couldn't remember the name, but he knew he watched it intently for the whole time it was on air. Every weekend, he would be sure to sit there with a cup of orange juice and some crackers just before the show started. It was a TV show about a group of basketball players and their high school life. How they would always watch each other's back and helped each other despite all their differences and trials.

It was very appealing to Kuroko.

Sure he had 'friends' but they somehow always forgot him because he did not speak up often. And when he did, they would be embarrassed and try to include him in the team again. And he would promptly be forgotten in a minute or two.

If they played together as a 'team', instead of just 'friends'…

Perhaps he would not be forgotten.

So with that thought in mind, Kuroko decided to take up basketball the next chance he had. He might not have the talent for it, but he really wanted to play in a team, with people who would not forget about him.

It took a full year for him to learn the basics, and by then he had graduated from elementary school. Since his parents wanted him to join Teikou middle school, he joined the basketball club when he entered the school. He barely managed to pass the tryouts and scraped a position as a third string member. It was likely that no one remembered who that novice player was and hence his name remained on the list, but Kuroko did not want to question his good fortune at being able to continue chasing his dream.

The empty third string gym after training time was always for his use alone, since it was old and the third string members would have left for home. It was where Kuroko would reaffirm his determination for a team, and solemnly practice the basics that he still struggled with.

It was not until one day, a dark-skinned student with dark blue hair came in all of a sudden and started screaming about ghosts, that his goal became more definite. He wanted to play in a team with him, because this guy remembered him (even if it was only because Kuroko was his only opponent there).

And for better or worse, when that red haired leader saw him, Kuroko's fate was sealed. He would have a team, a team of the best players. A team which grew stronger together, and aspired for greater strengths. And yet eventually broke apart because of that.

He would finally be able to experience all that camaraderie he sought, at a price. He would learn joy and heartache at their hands.

And he would grow stronger than before, in mind, and in strength. And he promised himself, he would have a new team to grow with, to defeat his old team mates with. When they woke up from the dream, they would continue to love basketball as a team sport. That was what he gained from them, and all that he wanted them to remember.

Because to Kuroko, it was what defined basketball.

* * *

A/N: Kuroko is surprisingly easy to find when you are not looking for him. That part was easy enough. I simply took the chance to interview him when I bumped into him on my way out of the library unexpectedly. The hard part is trying to get proper, long answers from him - he isn't the type to talk more about anything in the past, after all. And he would like to remind everyone that he is loved by his family - they are just a little absentminded at times. Now I just have to ask him more about the others - Hey! Where did he go again?!


	6. Murasakibara Atsushi

Disclaimer: Kuroko no Basuke belongs to Fujimaki Tadatoshi.

Summary: Murasakibara started basketball because he was asked to play mini basketball. Given that he is that tall now, he must have towered over the other children his age when he was young too. So it is not surprising that he was scouted for mini basketball. However, he said that he had not passion for basketball. How did he gain that attitude towards basketball, and why is he still playing even now?

* * *

**The Beginnings of Basketball: Murasakibara Atsushi  
**

* * *

Murasakibara Atsushi came from a family of giants.

His father towered over the family at six foot seven. His only uncle, the brother of his father, was but a two inches shorter. It was an inherent trait in his father's family. His grandfather stood proudly at seven foot one while he was still alive, and it was believed that he had been the tallest ever produced from this lineage.

It was almost certain that Atsushi and his siblings would inherit the tall factor as well, since their mother was also a tall female of five foot eight, although nowhere near his father's height. (It was something that she claimed drew him to her in the first place.)

Anyway, when Atsushi was born, he had to be wrapped up in two baby blankets instead of the standard of one blanket per baby. His birth was somewhat of a surprise since his siblings were already in middle and high school, but at least he was well received by the family.

Since he was the youngest of three, his parents were already prepared to receive another giant baby in the family, and it did not come as a shock. But really, his mother should have been awarded a medal for being courageous enough to carry and give birth to all three of them.

To Atsushi, he was always the smallest in the family. He was surrounded by tall people, and to him it was perfectly normal. He was the youngest, and he was also the shortest in the family.

But the world outside did not think so.

Whenever Atsushi was permitted to go outside with his mother or siblings, other parents in the vicinity would whispered as they stared at him.

'Why is that boy still sucking on his fingers? He's already so big!'

'Could he be suffering from some mental disease? He can barely talk when children his age is already chattering nonstop!'

'Poor child. He must have some mental defect. I pity his brother for having to take care of him.'

Atsushi was too young to understand, but he could feel the speculating whispers and the piteous looks directed at him. And a child subjected to such would be terrified.

But it was okay, his family reassured him while shooting evil glances at the whispering crowd. He was just taller, so everyone thought he was older and expected better from him. They didn't know better.

Another good thing about being the baby of the family was that both parents and siblings had already gone through similar phases and knew just how to react. And so Atsushi grew up receiving very different views from his family, and the outside world. He held no love for the outside world because they showed him little to none, and he much preferred his family.

* * *

When he was first allowed to play outside, he was picked on by the older kids who thought he was mentally defective since he was not at the same frequency as them. So his parents did not allow him out anymore until he was older, and could defend himself.

But he would rather not go out anymore.

Still, when his time came, he still had to attend school. In the first day of school, everyone stared at him with gaping mouths. Thankfully, his father took vacation leave from work to go with him, and everyone finally got the idea that he was simply…tall for his age.

It was not a spectacular introduction to the world, but at least now he only had the curious and awed looks by the other children, and even some gentle smiles by the adults in the classroom.

His father ruffled his purple hair, and told him to get along well with the others.

It was a difficult task.

From his height, everyone looked about the same to him if they did not look up at him. He could not identify who his classmates were since most of them did not remember to look up. This cause them to think that he was too insincere in making friends, not even bothering to call them by their names when they met outside of classroom.

When Atsushi spoke to his father, his father laughed quietly and whispered a quick trick to him. Learn his classmates by their hair colour and hair styles, he advised. For the most part, it worked. And he managed at least differentiate some classmates from the others.

Besides that problem, Atsushi also realized that he could not hear his classmates well due to their height difference. So he had to ask them to repeat what they said frequently. Coupled with his intimidating height, this made his classmates looked at him weirdly, and to even go as far as avoiding him since he was too difficult to talk to.

Again, he spoke with his father about his hearing problem. And again, his father laughed quietly. He had gone through similar experiences when he was young too, so did his other siblings. And so Atsushi learned a new trick. If he bend his head down and put his ear closer to them when they spoke to him, he would hear better.

Still, it was troublesome to do that, so unless he needed to, he would not bother.

Given his laid back attitude, one would not expect him to make friends. But that was not to say that he was ostracized. He had friends in class, and they tolerated his ways to varying degrees. And there was one in particular that he was close to.

On their first meeting, the orange haired boy had stopped beside his table, grabbed his shoulders and said loudly.

"Please play basketball with me!"

Of course he refused. I mean, if a weirdo came up to you out of the blue and asked you to play with him, you would refuse too. But he did not give up.

Atsushi would often notice him around. It was kind of hard not to, when said classmate had orange haired and would always yell his name if he appeared with sight of him. He was also always looking up at him, and would often repeat his words again and again if Atsushi did not appear to hear him (even if it was on purpose).

Not to mention that he would often tagged along with him, asking for him to read the signs of the lunch noticeboard over the crowd or making him erase the top of the whiteboard just because he could reach.

He was also very energetic, and could almost be considered a hyperactive child. And he was so full of hope, he practically beamed whenever he had a 'brilliant' idea, which was about once every two days. But most importantly, unlike the others who stuck around trying to make use of him, this orange haired friend was the real deal. He would help out when Atsushi was assigned a chore that required him to bend down for some time, such as feeding the chickens in the tiny coop, in return for Atsushi using his height to read over the heads of crowds. It was give-and-take.

It was welcoming, refreshing even. He stayed around long enough, and Atsushi finally spoke of his concerns that he would never fit in with the class since he was 'such a freak' for being so tall.

But they would grow taller soon, his orange haired classmate insisted.

And they did.

But so did he.

It seemed as if he was doomed to never be on the same level as the rest of his peers. But still, his friend stood by him, always offering to share a snack with him.

Atsushi finally agreed to try playing basketball with him after said friend asked for the hundredth and twelfth time, since it was his friend's birthday and he had not gotten a gift.

The duo played in the empty street courts after school each day. To them, it was simply a game. There was no honor, no glory in it. It was purely playing for the sake of playing. His friend wanted a challenge, for no older boys would play with him. And Atsushi simply tagged along for the ride to spend time with him.

It was not exciting, nor did any passion burn through him like his friend claimed it would. But his friend's enthusiasm was infectious, and soon he found that he was looking forward to playing.

The two of them enrolled in the basketball club when the captain saw them playing one day, and plotted the scheme to convince them to join. He wanted Atsushi to join badly, but when he asked around, he learned that the only way to make the disinterested boy move was through his friend. And so, he casually invited the orange haired friend to the club and asked if he knew anyone else who could play.

Since Atsushi did not have club activities, his friend signed him up verbally before he had a chance to decline.

* * *

In the basketball club, the first thing he noted was that everyone playing on the court was around his height. The shorter ones, whom he assumed were the same age as him, were busy with basic training and running errands while the others were training.

Basketball was a sport meant for tall people, Atsushi knew right away. Height advantage was simply too much to be overcome by skills and hard work. Just by standing, he was able to guard perfectly against those his own age, without even needing to jump.

Just by standing, he could easily intercept any high passes or shots into the hoop.

Just by standing.

It was the envy of every junior in the club.

People who lost against him were saying that he only won because he had height. They would give up when facing him, always saying things like 'there was no way to win against someone so tall'.

But Atsushi did not see anything wrong with it. He had, after all, played with his orange haired friend for some time now, and his friend had always found ways to score against him. By being quicker, using feints and confusing the hell out of him, his friend was able to circumvent his height.

It was a challenge, but not an impossible one. So to those who whined that he was born with advantage over the others, Atsushi always ignore them. It was a good thing for the club that not everyone was like that.

In this place, Atsushi did not feel left out or awkward, because this was the place where people like him gathered. He did not have to bend down to hear them, nor did he have to recognize them only by their hair color because he could not see their faces. Not that he could recognize faces well – he had very little practice with that – but at least there were more things he could identify them with. Their eyes, their expressions, and most importantly, he could remember by their interactions with him.

Some were friendly with him, and some were always serious during training, and some ignored him. Atsushi also learned to identify the people on the court by their playing styles, their strong points. Although it seemed that he only remembered those with exceptional skills, his orange haired friend noted.

All these little things helped Atsushi identify the main people in the basketball club. And although he felt a little lost at times, being that this is all relatively new to him, he still had his orange haired friend by his side to help him out.

Life was becoming interesting.

* * *

Despite being enrolled at the same time as his friend, and starting to play only mere weeks before, Atsushi was soon promoted to being a regular. Or rather, he was promoted as a hidden ace for the team. While he felt nothing at being promoted, it sure made his orange haired friend ecstatic for him.

There was some dissention amongst the club members, because some felt that he was not worthy of it. They felt that it was unfair, that because he had the height, one of the seniors who had worked so hard had to be kicked out to make a place for him in the regular's team.

The regulars themselves were not as narrow minded, and they welcomed him whenever they trained. Not with open arms, of course, since he had yet to earn their respect. But at least they did not share the opinions of others.

Still, the whispers and discontentment spread, and Atsushi found himself the target of threats to make him quit the club. When confronted by a group of more extreme seniors who did not managed to make it to the regulars' team, Atsushi felt that it was too troublesome. He would have declined the position there and then, since he did not want it anyway. But his orange haired friend came barraging in, and stopped Atsushi from declining simply because it was too troublesome to have it.

His friend took over the confrontation, and they eventually moved it to the old worn down basketball court at the back of school to settle things. They played two on two, with his friend on offense and he only taking defense.

Those seniors sneered, because Atsushi was only a newbie, and his orange haired friend was short – he was still a junior, and elementary children grew fast so they had a distinct height difference. Compared to two seniors who had years of experience playing basketball, Atsushi and his friend were simply no competition at all.

But those seniors lost.

And wonders of wonders, they lost in defense when their only attacking opponent was his short, orange haired friend. Atsushi was too bored to bother with attacking, and his orange haired friend had told him to just defend. It did make things simpler for him.

The seniors outside of the game looked on with gapping mouths, and eventually, when the game ended with the score of ten to six in Atsushi's favor, the seniors were all ashamed of themselves. Like his orange haired friend said, it was not talent, nor height, but your passion and willingness to train hard that matters.

And so, the matter was settled. Atsushi became the hidden ace of the regulars, and his orange haired friend cheered him on enthusiastically during trainings.

In his school, the regulars trained twice as much and thrice as hard as any other member. Being promoted as the hidden ace meant that Atsushi was also supposed to follow their training schedule, although he was clearly lacking in stamina compared to the others. His friend would always pull out a pack of sweets or candy from the bag and share it with him, especially when he was about to collapse after all the stamina training of the regulars. Eventually, he gained a fondness for those sweets.

Atsushi continued to play with his friend outside of training every day, since he did not get to play with him during practice matches – his friend was not part of the regulars' team after all.

Although Atsushi did not really want to, he still agreed to play since the whole objective of playing basketball and joining the club was to spend time playing with his friend. It did not hurt that hi friend had bribed him with sweets in order to get him to continue training together, and he supposed that spending a little extra time playing would not be too much trouble.

Over time, his skills improved by leaps and bounds, and soon no one could not say anything about him not being worthy of the spot. The team always won when he played, and because his height was still that of a seniors', no one wondered about him. The coach had intentionally left the impression that he was a transfer student, so no one knew that their school had gotten such a talent.

And yet the opponents would always say mean things when they lost. At first, it was only after they left the court and the gym, but gradually they started to grumble right in front of him.

'How are we supposed to win against this freak?!'

'He only wins because he's born that way.'

'We did not lose in terms of talent.'

Well, that did sound familiar. Atsushi wondered briefly where he had heard it before, before shrugging the issue off because he could not remember it. His orange haired friend almost face palmed at that, because really, who would have forgotten those threats made by the seniors when they first entered the club.

Anyway, the coach told him that the losers always said mean things so there was no need to listen to their whining. The regulars' team reassured him that they knew it was not simply natural born talent, but his hard work, that had gotten them so far. They told him that being born this way was a gift, and they were glad to have him here.

And somehow, over the months, he had gotten used to trusting them.

_But he was still too naïve._

It was not long before Atsushi noticed that he and his orange haired friend were drifting apart. The gap between their talent widened by the day, since he could learn the skills his friend possessed, and yet his friend could never beat his height advantage. Atsushi did not realize this until his friend gave up in the middle of a game with him.

'I only wish I can be as good as you, but I guess people with no talent will never be able to make it.'

Atsushi had always fed off his friend's love for the game, and hearing that from the one who insisted that height could be overcome was too shocking.

'It's not because of height, Atsushi-kun. But you really are very good at this. You learned all of the tricks and feints in less than half the time I took to even complete the moves."

Still, basketball never did matter as much as their friendship. So Atsushi made up his mind and said stubbornly.

'I won't play if you're not playing with me.'

He would have gone through with it too, but his friend was even more insistent that he did not. He only asked Atsushi to do his best in the championship, for his share as well. After a long quarrel, Atsushi finally agreed to it. And no, it had nothing to do with the pack of sweets that his orange haired friend brought out when they were arguing about it.

But still, because of his extra trainings with the team in preparation for the championship, the two of them drifted apart for a time. Perhaps it was because he missed having his friend around, but Atsushi grew closer to the regulars in the team in that short period of time.

They were the only ones he had.

* * *

In the first championship that Atsushi participated throughout, it was really tough. He was only allowed to participate from the start since one of their regular starters had been injured prior due to over exercising. His height was on par with that regular senior, and they both specialized in defense. That was the reason for his official debut as a starter player. Atsushi would not have bothered doing it if the senior had not specifically requested for him to stand in.

The matches were on consecutive days, and sometimes they had three matches in a day. Atsushi played both offense and defense normally, but since he had a better advantage in defense, whenever he was tired and could not do as much, he would focus only on defense.

And tired he was. Atsushi had never felt so exhausted, since he normally did not participate in a full game. While the coach could substitute him for a quarter, his strength was needed more than half the match or else the team would be close to losing. Many times, he thought of giving up, but the looks on his team mates pushed him on. He had not wish to disappoint them, and he had promised his friend that he would put in effort enough for the two of them.

So, he pushed on.

Atsushi met his match in the finals. The opponents were a veteran team, and they held some sort of grudge against his school. They were really good players, and the whole game was solely one-on-one. His opponent was a tall player, with really quick and limber movements, and a stamina that could possibly match that of a marathon runner. Atsushi could barely keep up with his mark throughout the game, exhausted as he was.

Whenever he was substituted out, the lead they had would be closed in by their opponent. The coach had no choice but to substitute him back in, despite his obvious exhaustion. And in the last five minutes, his body finally gave up. Atsushi stumbled, and crashed into the floor when his feet refused to move and stabilize him. As much as he struggled, he could not get back up. His limbs felt like gold, so shiny with sweat and heavy with exhaustion.

The coach shook his head, and ordered him to be brought off the court. Of course, that meant a loss in firepower, and the ending was already decided.

His team lost by a wide margin.

And they lost their championship title.

It was not really his fault that his stamina gave up first – his body required much more to work than anyone else. That, his team understood. But understanding was not the same as accepting. The loss was painful, but especially so for the seniors because it was their last year and only the winners of this championship had the chance to participate in the next interstate championship.

The injured senior would have a chance to play in that championship, if they had won.

'Why! Why did you not try harder!'

'Why did you give up!'

The injured senior had cried out loud while shaking him in anger and frustration after the match ended in their loss.

The tears would not stop. Even Atsushi, who was apathetic to the sport itself, could almost taste the bitter taste of frustration and indignation at losing. But since Atsushi did not have the passion for basketball in the first place, he was still detached from it. After the championship, he had not felt the need to be apologetic, or continue to take on the sorrow for failing. In fact, he appeared to be nonchalant about the whole losing-the-championship ordeal.

Because that was just the way he was.

And so, his world crumbled.

Other people did not understand him. They had not asked for his rationale, and they did not know him well enough to know that the way he seemed after losing the match was just the way he was.

And someone, or some group, had started very malicious rumors about him. That he did not care about winning, that he disappointed the seniors and yet did not even feel the need to apologise. That the seniors made a grave mistake trusting him, and that he planned it from the very beginning.

In their sorrow at losing the championship, some of them started believing those rumors. Despite having known him throughout the year, in that moment of grief, they chose to forget everything they knew of him.

Atsushi's behavior was in line with those rumors, and his vague and straight to the point answers to certain questions made it all the more likely.

'Atsushi, did you not feel upset about losing the championship?'

'No.' It had stung quite abit, but Atsushi did not think it was upsetting because he had given his all.

'Do you even care that this is your seniors' last year to play?'

'No.' There were basketball championships in middle school too. The seniors would continue playing in middle school if they liked it enough, regardless of what he thought, so why should he care?

In retrospect, he was set up by the others. The seniors who had heard the conversation turned their back to him, and gave him the cold shoulder. No one smiled at him anymore, and the twins even ignored him entirely while the quiet ones simply avoided him.

His most trusted team mates turned against him.

While it was never directed at him, Atsushi felt that they might as well have used him as a target sign. He could almost hear the accusations in their tones, and seeing that the blame they harbored for him in their eyes every moment of training. And when the ever calm senior who was next in line as captain snapped at him for eating, all hell broke loose. All those words that they kept to themselves kept on pouring from them, and each one hurt more than the last.

That was the last straw.

They had put all their hopes on him whenever the match was at its critical point, always expecting him to save them. And yet when they lost the final match, they really blamed him. Not out rightly, but everyone could hear the blames being voiced everywhere, the whispers ghosting around him. And they did nothing to stop it.

Even the gentlest soul would become cold if his trusted team mates turned against him. He had not even wanted to play in the first place – they were the ones who wanted him to. They selfishly brought him in, and then placed all their hopes on him. And when the hopes were dashed, they turned against him and blamed him for disappointing them.

Was anything real between them at all?

He trained just as hard as anyone, and yet everyone only saw him for his height, for his talent. He participated in matches just as invested as everyone, and yet they all blamed him for his failure, even though it was just that once. They held no blame for themselves, and yet placed everything on him when he did not even want it in the first place.

There was really no fun in playing basketball at all.

* * *

Until the rumors died down and the seniors got over their grief, his orange haired friend was the only one who stood by him as Atsushi went through all the pain and humiliation of losing. Atsushi decided to withdraw from matches until all the seniors graduated, and he spent the whole time watching his friend train.

Eventually, he got back to practicing at the insistence of his orange haired friend.

'Play with me.'

By the second last year of elementary school, Atsushi was finally invited back onto the regulars' team. The current captain was of his generation, and he very much wanted to form a team with Atsushi and his orange haired friend. Those two had gotten really good over the years, and his orange haired friend had grown taller too.

The team needed them, the captain insisted. No one on the team held a grudge against him, and actually, the captain had already taken steps to expel those troublemakers from the club. This team would welcome him with open arms, no strings attached.

And he was right. This team worked well with them, when they finally decided to join them. They made a really good team.

His orange haired friend made him a bet before the championship that year. If they won, he would follow Atsushi to his choice of middle school, no matter where. And they would again reign as champions in middle school, all the way through to high school. It was an inviting prospect, because making friends was still difficult for him. So that year, Atsushi gave it his all. He even went so far as to score a hundred points by himself in the semifinals.

But they still lost in the finals because he had over exerted himself again and did not last through the final match. It was a really tough game, and their schedules did not allow them a break before the finals.

They lost. It was only the first championship that this team faced. There would still be next year.

But his orange haired friend – his only friend who stood with him through it all – turned his back against him, saying that he would quit the sport now and go to London to study.

Atsushi refused to listen to his reasoning, and held a grudge against him. Thus, they parted just like that.

It was later revealed in a letter addressed to Atsushi that it was an agreement that he made with his father. Should he fail to excel at basketball that year, he would quit the club and go study abroad. And to his father, winning the championship and earning the MVP award was the only way to prove that he excelled at basketball.

'Weak people shouldn't play.'

'Passion is really just not enough.'

'If I had known this earlier, I wouldn't have wasted the time chasing after a fleeting dream of becoming the best in basketball.'

'I should have cheered you on, and not tried to follow you with hard work.'

'Thank you…Atsushi-kun.'

And his world crumbled a second time.

Atsushi had sincerely respected him, trusted him, and counted on him to be there every step of the way. And yet… this was what he said. While Atsushi disagreed that his friend had no talent, the proof was that his friend had never won a single MVP award throughout their journey. Atsushi himself held the title instead.

And now, his friend would have to quit basketball as a result of it.

Losing, meant losing everything. Friends, teams, dreams, feelings, and passion. The heart wrenching feeling, the replays of the loss. The faces of the team, the tears they shed. His only friend being unable to continue basketball from now on.

It was simply too much.

There was no one left, nothing left but the sport, his overwhelming talent, and his detachment to the sport. And yet it was all he had.

There was no reason left for him to give it his all in matches again. Sure, he still played because it was all he had left. Because the rest asked him to. But never again would he bother to invest emotionally in it.

After all, there was no point now.

* * *

In middle school, once again, Atsushi was asked to play basketball due to his height. He was debating whether he should continue. His parents were absolutely delighted that at least one child of theirs was going to contribute to the national's basketball team, but he knew that he felt nothing for the sport.

He had decided to take it easy during the tryouts – if he really had talent, he would make it anyway so there was no reason to bother trying hard. Every new student who wanted to join the club was there for the tryouts, but they gave him a wide berth since he was just so tall and they were not sure if he was new or a senior.

A red haired boy came up to him just before the tryouts' match. Atsushi was abruptly reminded of his orange haired friend, and remembering the pain, he wanted to ignore him. But the red haired boy merely held out a bag of chips (healthy chips, mind you) and waved it at him. 'Please eat all of this before you play.'

The gesture was weird, because the rule was not to eat anything heavy before playing any game or training. But this was exactly what Atsushi needed, and this person knew. The glint from his eyes told him that this guy saw through everything, and he was not afraid to reach for what he wanted because he already knew the outcome.

…Perhaps it was what drew him to play with him.

Not because the food was a bribe. But just to see if this red haired boy would make basketball interesting again. For a moment, it felt like had he been there for that disastrous final, his team could have won. He could have won. And everything – the world – would have righted itself.

If he knew that much, perhaps it was worth tagging along with him.

This hunch of his was proven right over time.

A few months later, Atsushi confessed his detachment to basketball. The red haired boy, who he now knew as Akashi Seijurou or 'Aka-chin', smiled and told him to think back on what his friend had said, and to find a reason for playing besides not losing again.

Atsushi sat for a long time, while munching on chips.

In the end, he decided that if he was the threshold for being considered as elite, then if he won against them, the opponents would have no future in basketball. Passion and hard work was not enough, just like his orange haired friend said.

If he crushed them first, those who had no talent would not continue to waste their effort in this foolish chase. After all, even after that much training and practicing, his orange haired friend did never made it. So he would crush every single team he faced from now on, especially those who had passion but no talent.

It would be something to honor their memory.

When he told 'Aka-chin' that, 'Aka-chin' had smiled and gave him yet another bag of sweets.

Atsushi was contented.

* * *

A/N: That was long. Murasakibara is really difficult to comprehend. He stays as defense, and yet according to Kuroko he is more the type to go for offense. He's talented, but has no passion for it. And yet he still trained and played. Anyway, I hope this sheds some light on his view of the world and how he came to be. Then at least the ton of sweets I contributed in exchange for his story will be worth it.

(I'll reply to reviews via PM so please check if you have the time.)


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